Leaves from a Field Note-BookMorgan, J. H. (John Hartman)
History
Leaves from a Field Note-Book
Morgan, J. H. (John Hartman)
World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives, English
Here, I felt sure, the whole proceedings must collapse and the
magistrate be sadly compelled to admit his impotence. The magistrate,
however, appeared in nowise perturbed, nor did he for a moment relax his
authoritative expression. He was turning over the pages of the _Code
d'Instruction Criminelle_, glancing occasionally at a now wholly
penitent prisoner trembling before the majesty of the law. At last he
spoke. "I will deal with you," he said with an air of indulgence, "under
Chapter VIII. of the Code. You will be bound over to come up for
judgment at the end of the war if called upon. You will deposit a
_cautionnement_ of twenty francs. And now, gentlemen, we are at your
service."
"Fiat justitia ruat coelum," whispered A---- to me, as the prisoner,
deeply impressed, opened a leather purse and counted out four greasy
five-franc notes.
FOOTNOTE:
[27] Defamation. It is a misdemeanour according to Belgian law.
XXVII
HIGHER EDUCATION
British Headquarters must, I think, be the biggest Military Academy in
the world. It has its Sandhurst and its Woolwich and even its Camberley.
It ought long ago to have been incorporated by Order in Council as a
University with Sir John French as Chancellor. It has more schools in
the Art of War than I can remember, and every School has an Instructor
who deserves to rank as a full-time Professor. To graduate in one of
those schools you must get a fortnight's leave from your trenches or
your battery, at the end of which time you return to do a little
post-graduate work of a very practical kind with the aid of a
machine-gun or a trench-mortar. At the beginning of the war higher
education at G.H.Q. was somewhat neglected, and the company officer who
desired to improve himself in the lethal arts had to be content with
private study. Company officers went in for applied chemistry by making
flares out of a test-tube full of water, delicately balanced in a
bully-beef tin containing sodium. The tins were tied to the barbed-wire
entanglements in front of our trenches, and when the stealthy Hun,
creeping on his stomach, bumped against the wire the test-tube
overflowed into the tin and a lurid patch of greenish flame revealed the
clumsy visitor to our look-outs. That was before we were supplied with
calcium flares. Then, too, the sappers went in for experimental research
by making trench-mortars out of old stove-pipes.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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